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“You got thirty percent?”
“Twenty-six point five.”
“That must have cost you a pretty penny.”
I nod but don’t disclose the figure. I’m certain everyone here has figured out my family is wealthy, but specifics seem unnecessary.
Maybe Dean senses that. Or maybe he’s testing me, trying to figure out whether I’m just a figurehead who does nothing but expects everything.
“You cleared two hundred billion in revenue last year, right?”
Across from me, Rachel’s eyes grow huge.
“We ended up just over two fifty,” I answer, not looking at Hannah. Thanks to Crew, I’m sure she has an idea about how much my family is worth. But concrete numbers are different.
“Holy shit,” Rachel comments. “So you’reveryrich.”
“I work for a profitable business,” I reply, then take a bite of my burger.
“Do you follow baseball, Oliver?” Mr. Garner asks.
After hastily swallowing, I shake my head. “Not really, sir.”
“I have a box available at the Condors’ afternoon game tomorrow, if you’re interested.”
“Sure, that sounds great.” I don’t hesitate in my response, even realizing it will require changing my flight back to New York. I was supposed to leave at two-thirty, and one thing I do know about baseball is the games are long.
Mr. Garner nods. “Good.”
“Is this a guy thing or…” Rachel says.
Hannah’s father smiles. “You’re always invited. The whole box is available.”
“You hate baseball,” Eddie comments.
“Hate is a strong word,” Rachel replies. “And DadinvitedOliver. No way am I missing it.”
Eddie shakes his head twice, but then quickly glances at his father. “Okay if we come too?”
Hannah’s father looks amused. “Yes.”
Hannah is the only one at the table who looks less than enthused about the baseball game. Her eyes remain on her plate as the conversation shifts to a discussion of April’s pregnancy and Rachel’s stories about her high school students.
As soon as everyone is finished eating, Hannah suggests croquet. It elicits a stronger reaction that I would have guessed. Dean looks thrilled. Rachel grumbles loudly. Eddie appears resigned. Cynthia and April carry their drinks over to the lawn chairs just past the edge of the patio overlooking the yard.
“I’ll play,” I volunteer.
Hannah meets my eyes. She avoided looking at me for most of dinner, and I didn’t realize how much it bothered me until we make eye contact again. It feels like that first breath of oxygen after swimming underwater.
There’s a challenge in the blue. “In yoursuit?”
“You think jeans are an advantage?” I reply.
My expression stays serious, but I’m tempted to smile.
The last time I played croquet was years ago, in the Hamptons. I avoided the Kensington house whenever I was there, since it holds the strongest memories of my mother, ones I’m not willing to risk overwriting. But there are always certain society events that take place there in the summer which are impossible to avoid, like the Ellsworth’s Fourth of July party. And while it’s been a while since I played croquet, I’ve had a lot of practice at golf.
I get last pick on color, meaning I go last in the order.
